Shattered Bonds A Second Chance Mate (by Yui) novel Chapter 180

Chapter 180

Peace is a fragile thing.

It takes months to build, but only a breath to shatter.

For weeks after the full moon run, Valmont thrived in a way I had only dreamed it could.

Laughter returned to the streets.

Wolves trained together, not out of fear, but strength.

Children played in fields that once whispered with sorrow. Even the air felt different – no longer stagnant, but alive, humming with hope.

I believed we had turned a page.

That the shadows Henri left had finally been burned

away.

But shadows have long memories.

It began quietly, as most storms do. A messenger arrived at the gates one gray morning, weary and mud–stained. He carried no crest, no banner. Only a single name on his lips, spoken with the urgency of someone who had run too far without rest.

“Isolde,” he said.

The name struck Francesco like a blow.

I felt it through our bond – the sharp intake of his breath, the tightening of his chest. His expression, always so carefully controlled, faltered for a fraction of a second.

Who?

I had never heard that name before.

But the way his jaw clenched, the way his golden eyes darkened, told me enough.

Whoever she was, she was no stranger to him.

F

“She seeks audience,” the messenger added. “She says she has nowhere else to go.”

Francesco dismissed the man with a nod, but when he turned to me, I saw the weight in his

gaze.

“Ellaine,” he said slowly, “there is something you should know.”

The tone of his voice made my heart skip.

I knew from his expression this woman was more than a story from his past.

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Chapter 180

We met her in the great hall.

The moment she stepped inside, the air shifted.

Isolde was striking- tall, with dark hair braided down her back and eyes like storm clouds.

Time and hardship had carved lines into her face, but they only sharpened her beauty, gave it an edge. She carried herself with grace, but beneath it, I caught the trembling of a woman on the brink.

When her eyes landed on Francesco, she froze.

For a moment, the mask slipped, and raw emotion flickered across her features–longing, regret, and something deeper.

“Francesco….” she breathed.

I had never hated the sound of my mate’s name until that moment.

He didn’t answer her at once.

His body was taut, every muscle wound tight, but his voice was steady when he finally spoke. “Call me Alpha. Or King.

Isolde.”

Just that. His tone flat, distant.

I saw her flinch, though she tried to hide it.

And pride bloomed in me at his response

his side now.

–

a reminder that no matter who she had once been, I was the one standing at

Through the bond, I felt his turmoil. Pain. Anger. And buried deep, so deep I might have missed it if not for our link

shard of old hurt.

–

a

Isolde’s gaze shifted to me then, and for a heartbeat, something flickered in her eyes. Surprise. Calculation. “This must be her,” she said softly. “The one fate gave you? I thought you would end with Luna Anastasia. But I suppose I was wrong.

After all, Lycans can choose their mates, unlike us common wolves.”

Her words were edged, meant to cut.

“Yes,” Francesco said firmly, ignoring the sting of her comment. He moved closer to me, his arm brushing mine – a subtle claim, but also a shield. “My Luna. Ellaine Lycaon.”

Jinclined my head, polite but cool. “You’ve come a long way. Why?”

She drew a shaky breath, as if preparing for battle. “Because I have nothing left. My mate-” Her voice cracked. “He found his true bond. I was… cast aside.”

A ripple of murmurs swept the hall.

Wolves shifted, exchanging glances.

Rejection was a wound few survived unscarred.

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“I have nowhere to turn,” Isolde continued, her eyes glistening. “No pack, no family. I thought-” She hesitated, her gaze darting to Francesco. “When I heard about this place, under the rule of the Italian Lycan King. I thought perhaps… here, I could find shelter. At least until I can stand on my own.”

The hall fell silent.

Francesco’s face was carved from stone, unreadable.

But through the bond, I felt his storm – memories crashing against the present.

“She lies,” Marlow muttered under his breath, his hand already at his blade. Audrey elbowed him sharply, but her eyes

never left Isolde.

Alfonso scribbled in his ledger, eyes flicking between us all, already calculating consequences.

And me? My heart pounded, torn between jealousy and compassion.

She was broken – that much was clear.

But she was also the woman who had once held my mate’s heart.

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I knew Francesco had stories before me, before Anastasia. But meeting one of those women in flesh and blood, here in our

hall, was a test I never thought I’d face.

I forced my voice steady. “We will consider your request. But understand this – you are under our roof now, not his alone. If you stay, you stay as one of our people. Not the King’s past.”

Isolde’s lips parted, as if argue, but Francesco’s voice cut through the tension.

“Luna Ellaine speaks true,” he said. “If you remain, it will be as a guest of this pack. Nothing more.”

My chest swelled with relief at his words.

For a heartbeat, something flickered across her face disappointment? Bitterness? But it was gone too quickly to name.

She bowed her head. “I understand.”

That night, Francesco was restless.

We sat in our chamber, the fire low, shadows dancing across the walls.

He paced before the hearth, his movements sharp, his silence heavy.

“Talk to me,” I urged, watching him.

He stopped, his hands flexing at his sides. “I never thought I’d see her again.”

I waited, patient, giving him space.

“She was…” He exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his hair. “Before I was King. Before Anastasia. I thought she was

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future. You know how Lycans can choose, if fate hasn’t yet revealed the true bond. I nearly made that choice. I nearly

made her mine.”

Pain lanced through me, sharp and unexpected.

He felt it through the bond and winced. “Ellaine-”

“Go on,” I whispered, giving him a small smile to sho

I was steady.

Everyone has a story.

Better to hear his truth than let shadows fester.

“She betrayed me,” he said flatly. “With another. I gave her everything, and she cast it aside like it meant nothing. She told me he was her fated mate; and that I was nothing compared to him. I swore then that love was weakness. That I would never give anyone the power to wound me again. Until Anastasia. And we both know how that ended.”

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